


Lift

by HSavinien



Category: Biggles Series - W. E. Johns
Genre: Historical, M/M, Pilots, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-27
Updated: 2009-04-27
Packaged: 2017-11-26 13:30:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/650995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HSavinien/pseuds/HSavinien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Algy and Bertie, left to themselves, make their own entertainment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lift

Air-Constable Lord Lissie, known affectionately to his friends as "Bertie," appeared to be as deep in the doldrums as he ever got.  To be sure, this manifested itself only as a sort of discontented slump in his chair while he polished his rimless monocle and gazed out at the rain.  He sighed and winked his eyeglass back in before shifting back to look at the room's only other occupant.  'I say, old boy, it  _is_  rather cheap of Biggles and Ginger to pop off without us again.  This bally weather is sending me absolutely loopy.'

Algy nodded in commiseration.  'I know what you mean, of course; the fug of this office isn't my idea of a picnic either.  Biggles didn't need us along, though, and Air Commodore Raymond made it pretty clear that wasting department resources was not on.  He's trying to push the money-mongers into funding that training programme.'  He leant against the table beside Bertie, flicking at his petrol cigarette lighter.  'Since we count as department resources, the four of us aren't all to go out for a simple dekko at that supposed aquatic air-base near Malta.'

Bertie rested his chin on his hands.  'I know, Algy.  I just wish this rotten damp would clear out a bit.  It's enough to give a fellow the pip.'

Both the pilots gazed restlessly out into the drizzle.  It was a horrible pea-soupy day, with fog that had decided to coalesce in the air into a steady drip that left everything feeling clammy.  A tap at the door perked Bertie up.  He sloped to his feet and wandered over to usher in Smyth, who dripped on the floor. 

'Only here for a moment,' he explained, shaking water from his hat.  'Just stopped by to tell you I've sent all but a few of the lads home.  There's no vital work to be done and no sense in keeping the whole contingent around to finish a bit of spot-welding.  I know you two need to stick close in case the others radio for back-up, but don't count on much beyond a skeleton crew.'  Smyth grinned.  'Of course, you know as much as most of our mechanics, I expect.  If you leave a note here, it'll be seen by morning, but should anything desperate come up, you'll have to trot over to the main office and send a wire there.' 

'Righto,' Bertie said idly.  'We'll keep that in mind, old thing.'

Smyth jammed his hat back on his head, nodded to both of them and turned up his collar, then sallied forth into the rain again.

‘Well, that’s a bit boring,’ Bertie complained, dropping lightly back into his chair.  ‘I was hoping he’d have news.  He got me all worked up for nothing but a personnel report.’

Algy shrugged.  ‘It could be worse.  At least we know that we’ve got some free space to ourselves around the aerodrome.  We could go have a look at the bird, see that it’s fueled up and ship-shape in case we need it.’

Bertie tipped his head up far enough to squint at Algy through the monocle. ‘All right then, old man.  Better than sitting around in a cozy bunker all day. Wide open shower-baths, just the thing.’ 

Sitting up on the edge of the table, Algy laughed, snapping the cigarette lighter shut with a click and stowing it in his pocket.

‘What?  The jaunt out for a watering was your bally idea,’ Bertie retorted, raising his eyebrows.  His eyeglass slipped out and swung down his shirt front. ‘I do want some entertainment, though.  Have you got a deck of cards or anything of that nature about you?’ he asked vaguely, sitting up and reaching for his red and green silk kerchief to polish the glass again.

‘Afraid not, Bertie.  What about something else?’  Algy reached over to tug on his friend’s shirt collar.  ‘It’s as private here as it will ever be, after all.’

‘Hm…’  Bertie slipped kerchief and glass into his breast pocket.  ‘True enough, I suppose.  Slip the lock, would you?  I daresay they shan’t interrupt us unless something catches fire or some such bother, but it’s bad form to leave things to chance.’

The two men stood.  Algy bolted the door and Bertie pulled the old blackout curtains over the windows, then moved back to the table.  He was illuminated by the lamp there as he stripped off his flight-jacket and shirt, humming “The Blackout Stroll.”  Algy shed his own shirt and slid a hand lightly over the back of Bertie’s neck, which made him shift.

‘I say.  Tickling, old chap,’ Bertie muttered.

‘Sorry.’

‘Not to worry.  Just hold off on the touching unless you actually mean it.  I’m not a bally porcelain figurine, y’know.’

Algy laughed again, silently, just a little puff of air against Bertie’s face. ‘Of course not,  _Lord_  Lissie.  You just spend your time convincing everybody that you’re as useless as one.  Until you get in a kite.  That rather throws the whole picture off.’

Bertie’s mouth quirked. ‘I suppose flattery is certainly the order of the day, but I’m inclined to believe you.’  He reached back to pull Algy into the light as well.  ‘Ah, there we are.  Hallo, better half.’

Algy looked quite scruffy.  His hair was mussed, his trousers were half undone and some bruises on his shoulder – the remains of his fight with an Algerian slaver the week before – were turning a garish greeny-yellow.  Bertie regarded him fondly.  ‘You look a fright, old man.  Just as well you’ve got me around, as I shouldn’t think anyone else’d have you at the moment.’

His fellow pilot socked him companionably in the ribs.  ‘And after I just finished saying pretty things about your flying…’

‘True.  Lucky thing I’m partial to a bit of rough.’  Bertie looked him over.  ‘Pity about the green bits, but you’ll do, I expect.  Press on regardless, eh?’

Algy growled and, setting both hands flat against Bertie’s chest, pushed him back until he was sitting on the edge of the table.  ‘You’re terribly cheeky, Bertie.’

‘It’s my nature,’ Bertie pointed out with a shrug and an amiable smile.  ‘If you dislike it you ought to have swanned off long before now.’  He slid his own hands around Algy’s shoulders, careful of the bruising.

‘Bit late for that, I’m afraid,’ Algy muttered against Bertie’s ear, setting his teeth there for a sharp nip.  ‘I’m not going anywhere if I have a say in it.’

Bertie’s fingers twitched against Algy’s back. ‘Huzzah for me.  You’re stuck with me too, you know.’ 

Algy chuckled.  ‘I know.  I knew before you’d quite made up your mind to do anything about it.’  

‘I say-‘ Bertie’s mild squawk of objection was cut off as two things happened simultaneously.  Algy’s mouth closed over his and Algy’s hands slipped his trousers open and made a quick southerly journey.  With a nonchalant shrug, Bertie expressed his approval at this new course by sliding his own flight-rough fingers down the back of Algy’s waistband.

Algy chuckled in a rich way that made Bertie smile slowly against his mouth and snugged in closer between his friend’s gapped knees.  ‘Glad you went in for something other than solo flights.’

‘Oh, I am too, old man.  I am too,’ Bertie agreed.


End file.
